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Chapter 647: Battle of Gold and Silver

The silver knight stood far above Orion, the two suns making him shine like a holy crusader. Down below, Orion’s breath was heavy, and his golden armor with its black surcoat had already lost much of its luster. He appeared naught more than a rabid dog before a king. The knight prepared a simple horizontal slash that seemed impossible to dodge… yet again, fear removed Orion’s inhibition. He conjured wind beneath him, launching himself above the slash of light to meet his opponent above.

The silver knight parried Orion’s swing with his shield as if he’d expected such a charge, and Orion’s blade flew wildly away, bringing his arm flailing with it. He knew he was exposed. When he thought the second swing was sure to come, the knight turned. Rook, god of deception and subterfuge, lunged again. The silver knight blocked him once, but it was only an illusion—his true form came from the side. In response to that attack, the knight responded with equal subtlety—he jutted the pommel of his blade out, and a quick burst of light nailed the deity in the chest. Spirits bursting from his wound, Rook backed away.

Orion lunged forth, wrapping both his arms around the silver knight’s blade arm. He tried to bend it, break it, using the full might of his body. He and the knight were of equal size, and seemingly equal strength. He sent lightning and fire coursing out of his body, damaging himself in the process… but this demon had to die, no matter the cost.

The knight’s shield repeatedly bashed into Orion’s body as he wrestled it. The shield, fortunately, was of far weaker prowess than that blade. Still, it was like a hammer wielded by his own hand pounding into him, wearing him down. No matter how hard he grappled the knight, his arm did not wield—indeed, as time passed, Orion found himself losing the contest of strength. Finally, the knight managed to get into an advantageous position, and twisted his body to pick Orion up off the ground. He slammed him down, and Orion felt his breath leave his lungs. Despite the pain, he clung stubbornly to that sword arm. After another failed attempt to get his arm free, the knight pulled his shield back, and slammed it straight into Orion’s visor.

The metal of Orion’s helmet folded inward, blinding him—or perhaps his eyes had been crushed. Orion still clung tightly until a terrible force slammed into the knight, pulling him free of Orion’s grip and sending both of them tumbling in some unknown direction.

When his world stopped spinning, Orion grasped his helmet awkwardly while still clinging to his sword and shield and wrenched the thing free. It brought him great pain, but sight returned to him when the metal came off his skin. His long black hair started to whip wildly about in this tempest of battle.

Durran and Raven fought in his stead, undoubtedly saving his life in that moment. Durran, in particular, stood his own against any attacks that came toward Orion, combatting it with strength and magic in equal measure. As his vision blurred, recovering from the blow to his eyes, he saw the mark of powerful magic on the knight’s breastplate—the first sign of genuine injury, it seemed.

Raven was a force of nature, gracefully combining powerful magics as he danced in to employ the ungodly strength of that unnatural body of his. His arms were like those of a mantis, compressing the strength of a hundred men down to a single sharp point to pierce that armor. No matter how strong the blows were, once they met that shield, each attack achieved nothing.

Durran, meanwhile, seemed to have changed. His golden tattoos, most oft concealed by clothes and armor, seemed to glow beyond his body, taking on an aspect beyond his form. His strength and speed were far beyond what they had ever been, and he fought in a strange style that seemed far different from what he usually did.

Orion looked around, feeling once more that fear that told him to run. He saw the corpses of hundreds of the greatest fighters of the present day. Even in the midst of what he’d thought was a personal fight, the silver knight had been fighting hundreds of others, each seeking to dismember him with their power. And still he held his ground, fighting ever onward toward Blackgard. It inspired the purest form of dread, and approaching defenders faltered.

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Fear was meant to preserve the life—to give men good sense, allowing them to live another day. Orion felt fear the same as they did, but he ignored it. Finally feeling well enough to do so, he rose, and rushed back toward the carnage he felt was his destiny. This crumbling wasteland proved nightmarish to navigate, doubly so when Raven and Durran both struggled valiantly against this silver knight. He found himself dodging wayward gashes of light far too often, nearly losing limbs from their deadly battle. He could not blame them—to suppress this fighter was just like using one’s hands to block an explosion.

He found his opportunity to rejoin the fight not from a lull in the battle, but from a tragedy. Durra overextended, perhaps due to being unused to his newfound power. The silver knight managed to catch him in the leg. From the middle of his thigh downward, all below severed in less than half a second. Durran yelled in agony and collapsed. Just as Durran had done for him, Orion rushed to block the killing blow of the silver knight.

The silver knight thrust his blade at Durran’s head, but Orion slammed into his foe’s arm with a full-force tackle. The beam of light veered away, piercing the earth. Raven opportunistically attacked from behind, and when the knight tried to defend with his shield, Orion grappled his arm with all the strength he could. His interference succeeded—the spike jammed into the knight’s back, piercing through his chest right where the heart ought to be.

In response to the injury, the knight exploded with redoubled strength. He twisted about like a whirlwind, freeing himself of the spike to swing his sword in one smooth movement. A great crescent slash erupted toward Raven, but the ancient being was ready. He vanished, carried away by spirits, only to reappear next to Durran. Taking the wounded man, he left the battlefield in moments. Orion thought he was again alone, until…

“In this domain, time is slowed for me and my allies.”

Like a gavel appending that declaration, Orion felt a tremendous tempest pass him by as the golden greatsword of Law fell upon the silver knight. Their opponent dodged backward and raised that shield of his up, receiving an attack that had the weight of an ancient god freshly bolstered by a fight against Kirel Qircassia. Orion hoped to see a display of weakness, to see a sign of their foe faltering… yet just like any other, the blow stopped once it met that shield. It ended as meagerly as if it had been a child’s attack with a wooden sword. Then, the knight of silver swung his sword of light upward in retaliation. Law’s mighty weapon exploded backward, barely protecting him from harm. The god himself nearly lost his head.

That shield nullified all attacks with ease, that sword delivered attacks unmatched, and the knight himself possessed vigilance to such a degree he could never be ambushed. As Orion saw the silver knight move, slowed by Law’s domain, he realized this foe could only be dealt with up close. Metal and flesh folded around the wound Raven had made, mending it as blood flowed.

And yet… blood did flow.

With Law, Rook, Raven, and Durran all beaten back, Orion rushed forth with his heart screaming at him to flee. The knight possessed no such vigilance toward him—he took a stance, his shield held forward, sword held to the side, and thrust his blade again and again to skewer Orion. Each attack bore the strength and speed of a ballista crafted by Dario.

Even with time slowed slightly, Orion had to take every measure to avoid death. Wind echoed his steps to lend him the speed required to dodge those bolts of deadly light. Electricity coursed through his muscles to break the limit of what his body would allow. Fire and smoke wreathed from his entire body and obscured his form. Orion was utilizing the blessings the false pantheon had bestowed upon him the best he ever had.

When he was near close enough to strike, Orion’s visioned narrowed in defiance of the fear choking his guts. He knew what needed to be done to have any hope of victory, and he did it. When the next thrust came, he leapt toward it, his shield held out. It took the full brunt of those deadly javelins of light. The force was so intense that Orion only felt resistance for half a second—instead of the force transferring to his body and breaking his arm, it pierced through the shield, carrying onward. He slammed full-force into the silver knight, who—given the fact Orion was on the side his sword arm was—could not bring that nullifying shield to defend himself in time.

Orion had finally moved that mountain, and the two of them tumbled through the chaotic landscape he’d caused. Amidst the roll, either through luck or skill, Orion landed atop the silver knight, raised his sword, and plunged it straight through the knight’s visor. The silver knight spasmed once, and Orion pulled free his blade. He raised his blade horizontally as, despite all reason, the silver knight continued to live.

With one hand on his sword’s handle and the other on the blade, he slammed it down like a guillotine upon his foe’s neck. He sought the gap between helmet and breastplate to behead him. At the same time, the silver knight freed his sword arm, took aim at Orion, and thrust. In that split second, Orion felt pain unimaginable… and ceased to feel his legs at all. But he also felt his blade slip past helmet and breastplate both, meeting the flesh behind the armor. It cleaved through until it hit the dirt behind.

Then… sensations left him, one by one. The last thing he perceived were words, projected directly into his head.

“I won’t let you.”